The wind whipped the falling snow into blinding white sheets. Every step higher into the thin air felt like a challenge to the heavens.
Sylaris led the way, a small blur of blue. She was bundled in thick furs that made her look like a round cub, her little elf ears-sharper and more defined with every passing moon-protruding from her blue fur hat. Her cheeks were the color of crushed winter berries, bitten red by the frost, and her gloved hands gripped the icy stones with surprisingly steady strength.
Behind her, Zaliyah climbed Elegantly. Unlike his daughter, he was dressed in light, flowing silks of silver and deep violet. Ever since he had mastered his core, the internal furnace of his Celestial power did the heavy lifting. He no longer felt the bone-deep bite of the cold or the humidity of the heat.
Often, he wore furs just to match his daughter, but today, he wanted to feel the air against his skin-to let the elements know he was no longer their victim.
